It's The Little Things
by BlackThunder1221
Summary: It's the little things that count most. The little things about her that he loved the most. It was the little things about her that made him smile, and remember her when he was far away... This one is a tear jerker folks! So grab your tissues! I can't believe it's under 1,000 words! :0


The product of my inability to sleep for the last 30 some hours. _ Blahhhh!

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><p>The Little Things<p>

It's the little things that count most. The little things about her that he loved the most.

The way her hair shines in the light. The way her eyes sparkle when their eyes meet for the first time that day. The way she would wave him over to where she was. The way she teased him sometimes about this or that. The way she touched him when she think he's napping, but really he's only faking it so that she will do just that, her small fingers tracing over his flesh, pausing at the various piercings on his arms and face. The way his heart skips a beat when she says his name. The way she smiles at him that makes his stomach flip, and the iron cage around his heart melt a little more. Because he knows she doesn't smile like that for anyone else, not the blondie, not for the master, not when she's reading, not even for her two leaches. Just for him.

He didn't deserve it. None of it. He didn't deserve her affections. He didn't deserve to feel that warmth that melted his heart when he made her smile that smile. He didn't deserve _her_. Not when he had done such horrible things to her. No, he didn't deserve to be happy, not in the slightest. He shouldn't be allowed to be around her, to be alone with her, to go almost everywhere with her, to hold her hand when he walked her home every night, to be so close to her, to touch her as he sometimes did when he thought she wasn't paying attention lost in some book or another. No he shouldn't be allowed to hold her when she cried, to comfort her when she was afraid, to pet her hair and rub her back when she was depressed, to make her laugh and smile that smile when all she felt like doing was frowning and sulking. He shouldn't feel this way about her.

But he did, but he had, but he was; he always would, and he loved every minute of it. He loved the way she looked up at him, beaming with joy at seeing him. He loved the why she pouted at him when he called her "shorty" or "shrimp" or "bookworm." He loved the way she would try her hardest to be mean and tough when he pissed her off, her little fists beating against his chest barely even bruising him. He loved the fact that he could simply pick her up with one hand and toss her over his shoulder without effort. He loved the way her leaches would mope about when they saw her with him. He loved the fact that she was spending more and more time with him that the other two. He loved that she would come to him when she had a problem, or with a new mission. He loved the way she would always hold on to him somehow while she napped on the train to a mission or back to Magnolia. He loved the smell of her, the sight of her, the sound of her laugh, the smoothness of her skin against his, the way she tasted when he kissed her while she slept against him. He loved her.

It was the little things about her that made him smile, and remember her when he was far away on a mission. Those little things that helped him sleep at night, whether in his bed in Magnolia, or on the road for a job. Those little things that gave him the extra strength he needed in a particularly difficult fight. Those little things he liked to think about when he was alone, lost in his own world that revolved around her, her smile, her beautiful face, her every being that made him so happy and content like he had never felt before.

It was the little things he would miss about her. It was the little things that helped him remember her. It was the little things that helped him remember how good his life had been with her in it.

He wasn't ready to leave yet, he wasn't ready to leave her. There were so many little things about her that he hadn't seen yet, so many little things left to say. Even now as he lay on his back in the battle field staring at the darkness starting to take his mind and vision, his body torn, bloody and broken, death just a breath away, there were still so many little things…

It was the little things about her that allowed him to smile as his eyes closed for the last time, and drift off into his own little world where all those little things were waiting for him.

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><p>I hadn't origonally intended for that last little bit there, hope ya' didn't cry to hard. It just seemed to fit ya'know? I'm thinking about doing something like this from Levy's POV, thoughts? R&amp;R!<p> 


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